


Metastasis (Discontinued)

by xnyanx



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Fallen Angel, Fantasy, Half-Demon, angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6331198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xnyanx/pseuds/xnyanx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the love for Pizza alone, Dante sacrifices his pretense of napping and agrees to a job without knowing its aim. Only to come back with a visually dead body and live with it for who knows how long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Ay ay! (I'm sorry before hand for blabbering I'm terrible with notes xD)  
> This will be a series so if you're reading please don't kill me if nothing happened in the first chapter *hides*  
> I've had this idea for a while in my head and I really really really needed to write something that I enjoyed and for practice as well.  
> I usually write at school during my free periods and updates probably will be irregular (Sorry for that).  
> Anyway I hope you enjoy and leave a comment if you like.

The gate to the shop swung open and in came Lady with two revolvers tucked to her sides.

Meanwhile Trish lounged on the desk unintentionally arching her chest high up, enough for a novice to be able to exactly tell her size to precision. 

And Dante...

Well let’s just say he was dreaming of some other creature from the magazine that sat on his face, vaporising his snore so minimum quiet stayed in the shop. Of course that creature would be none other than the latest model of revolver with 5mm wide bullet.

“I’ve got a job.” Lady wasted no more than a second to announce what she came to deliver.  “Pays enough so you can pay me back.” She said curtly. “And live on pizza for a month or two with the remaining.”

The word pizza sprung the dead—actually pretending to be asleep— devil hunter to life.

No questions asked, he grabbed his red trench coat and swiftly slid both hands in. “Lead the way, love.”

That arrogant bastard didn’t care enough to ask what the job was let alone the details.

“What about me?” Trish bickered.

Dante was too occupied with his fantasy of pizza to notice her. Or he just didn’t want to have to share the pizza money that he could keep.

 

Lady and the devil hunter walked into Dante’s often visited haven as the cranky music blasted through every inch and corner of the place—Floppy Swings. Dante’s number one place to get free whores for the free demon killing he did for the owner. 

“Such a convenient place for such a promising job.” Dante commented with his smirk that drove Lady to only want to deface him so he could never smirk like that again.

“You don’t even know what the job is.” Argued the female hunter with her trademark attitude.

“Who cares? Slash a demon or two. Put a bullet in them. Piece of cake.”

“We aren’t on a killing mission.” Lady scoffed. “Rescue rather.”

“Rescue? At here?” That was surprise for mister demon killer. He only ever rescued people. The last time he did was months ago. And it wasn’t even a human, just a cat that happened to get caught in a fight of his, against Mundus’ one of many _lovely_ creations.  Point is, it wasn’t a job, he wasn’t paid for it and that rescue was a mere synonym of reducing casualty.

So it wasn’t really rescuing. And here at Floppy Swings where everything was safe and _hot_ , he didn’t know what or whom to rescue.

“Don't have enough info.” Lady said. “All I was told is that an angel has been kidnapped by demons and is held captive underground. Gotta bail her outta here.”

Since when did Dante become the saviour of angels?

“An angel kidnapped by demons.” He repeated. “Sounds like humans are being replaced by God's right hands.”

“Tch—” Lady groaned.  

 

“Hello there, Lover boy.” The elderly woman, who would not accept her age greeted. She wore a gold sequin dress falling above her knees and her neck was cut low enough for her corset-made cleavage to take attention away from her caked face. Yuba was her alias and she owned the place. And Dante, was her favourite customer-slash-saviour from demons. “Who do you want today?” She made her voice sound seductive as it was practically her job to do so.

“An angel. A real one. Seen one around here?” He joked knowing Yuba was unaware that an angel was being held captive under her very club.

“Oh, but we do have _our_ angel. You know you love her in bed.” She winked. Actually, Dante did quite enjoy Angel in bed—that was one of the whore’s names. 

“Not tonight. Need money. Gotta work. Next time.” He winked back at her before being yanked by Lady towards the basement.  

“For one bloody night.” Lady cursed. “Can you stop being a jackass flirt?”

“No can’t do.” He said, relaxed, hands stretched behind his head.

 

At the south side of the basement was a wood boarded wall which Lady broke with a single kick. It wasn’t very difficult. Dante followed as she made her way through a dark cave-like tunnel recently dug under Yuba’s nose. She had no idea.

Soon the pair reached a dead end—kind of. Not exactly one. A recently built mud wall blocked their path.

“The mud’s still wet in places.” Dante said examining the finely shaped structure.

“A shovel would have been helpful.” Lady glowered at Dante with hands on her hips.

“Your toy would have been too.” Dante jeered.

Lady's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. She bit her tongue while speaking to refrain herself from swearing out loud under a closed space. “It broke a week ago, thanks to you. Oh and you call it a toy once more, I’ll blow your head off with that very thing.”

“Can’t wait to see you try.”

Leaning against one edge, Dante thought of ways to penetrate the barrier. Or so Lady thought. In reality he was just taking a nap waiting for Lady to come up with a solution. After all, an angel was in lesser danger than any _menial_ human, right?

_Unless…_

“Bullets would definitely not pass.” Lady pondered. “Can you cut it with your sword?” She asked.

Dante sighed at how fast she found a way, if not a solution. Such a disturbance in his resting time, inside a tunnel, under a strip club.

“I can try.” He said and plunged Rebellion into the wall with force and made a rectangle large enough for them both to pass through.

What they saw upon entering the other side was quite unexpected. A big empty space, lit with torch fire at four corners—no demons, no angel. Lady either got the wrong address or very obviously something was wrong. Dante took help of the former to tease his partner.

“Looks like someone has the wrong address. Hopefully this job wasn’t given to you by your grandma in your dreams.” He smirked as he cracked his hundredth unfunny joke. It was unfunny to Lady anyway.

“Shut up.” She said ignoring him and trying to focus on something. Dante too focused to try and find a way out of the large empty room.

There was silence between the two for several seconds and tension was rising to force one of them to exhaustion. The room went so quiet that the sound of their breathing and the burning of wood on the torch synchronised and made music that could enchant.

For long they didn't find anything of significance and continued to concentrate but to no success. Defeated, Dante stepped inside going from corner to corner to see if there were any secret passages but found none.

“This place is empty, love.”

“If you would just be quieter.” Lady rumbled.

Dante raised his hands in the air to act defeated while smirking all the more.

More time passed and Lady started to validate Dante’s unfriendly comment—she might as well have brought them to a wrong address. For every other time, without exception, demons welcomed them and practically begged to be killed in their arrogance of being demons—superior to all human existence.

She sighed as she prepared herself to hear Dante’s banters and leave the place.

“Noth-” She was cut by the slight movement in her peripheral. Dante clearly witnessed it. Both hunters readied themselves to fight as dust around them slowly rose to form a jelly like figure of a female, larger than fifteen feet. Its body had watery texture and looked tangible enough. Dante and Lady, both were slightly disoriented as none of them had seen something like that before. And nothing of it felt devilish.

The figure formed finer and depicted a curvy figure of a female, slowly detailing itself. 

“Now that’s a sexy excuse for a demon. Haven’t seen something like _that_ before.” Dante said right before Lady fired her first shot at the thing and immediately regretted her action. It was no demon after all. 

Just as Lady’s bullet hit the body of it, a loud cry emerged from the room and came into view a bloodied female, hands and feet tied to fiery chains. Several demons buzzed around her naked figure torturing and harassing her. None of the demons were without intelligence, meaning they’d put up a tough fight. Two against eighteen.

The hunters gave each other a glance and began shooting at the filthy creatures taking down one by one. Dante slashed each buddy that confronted him and enjoyed himself greatly.

When the number of the opponent reduced to four, one of the demons lashed straight towards the captive, the angel and slit her stomach causing her tremendous pain. Her barely conscious mind fainted and she made no further movement. Her regenerative abilities didn’t function. To hope they weren’t lost was the only thing they could do.

That caught Dante’s attention and he swore in a scream. “Damn you!”

As far as stories went, an angel could only be killed if their wings were torn apart. This girl in front of him didn’t have any wings. None that Dante could see anyway. It was strange that she was still alive and he wondered how.

Either way, he shot at the demon behind her, who stumbled backwards. Not yet dead though. Dante let Lady handle the other three as he ran towards that one and with swift movements of his Rebellion, cut the demon to many pieces.

Meanwhile Lady finished off the other three and the area was clear for Angel’s rescue. The hunters glanced at each other questioningly while approaching the limp body of the girl. Blood had dried in places and elsewhere a thin liquid trail followed down to her feet from her back. Lady walked behind her, shooting the chains free. Dante caught the girl from landing directly onto the ground. Instead she fell on his arms and Dante’s red trench coat absorbed some of the fresh blood flowing non-stop out of the two cuts in her back.

Lady gasped at the sight. “Couldn't rescue _Angel_.” She said and Dante very well understood her meaning. Two deep wounds bulged from where her wings once had been. She was no longer an angel. But somehow, still alive. The two of them didn’t have time to be surprised and analyse if they wanted to keep it that way.  

Dante, with Angel on his shoulder and Lady with exasperation made their way out of the tunnel. They’d hoped Yuba would not notice them, or better not be there. However she was both there and noticed them along with the visually dead girl.

“Oh boy, boy!” She cried as they came to her attention. “What’s this? Where'd she come from? Who's she?” It was funny that she was shocked for this girl who was being tortured right beneath her. And a while prior, she had been an angel too.

“Easy with the questions, grandma.” Lady retorted and it earned her a glare. Yuba ignored her waiting for Dante to respond. He answered vaguely and waded toward the exit, and soon enough reached the shop without much talking on his way—the now wingless Angel still on his shoulder.

 

As they entered Devil May Cry, Trish was changing glances between Dante and Lady and occasionally looked at the bloodied body. The previously relaxed woman sat straight up with questions playing in her eyes.

“This was the job?” She finally gave into her curiosity because clearly, none of the other two noticed she needed to know. “Bring back a dead body?”

“She isn’t dead.” Dante said. The statement surprised Trish even more. The girl looked very much to dead to her.

“Okay.” She accepted. “So what’ll you do with her?” And asked.

Lady’s annoyance was minimising, but some traces still were there. “Give her a shower obviously.” She said. “She’s filthy.”

Knowing Lady would throw the girl immediately to the ground if handed to her, Dante gave Trish the responsibility to bathe her. Trish almost missed to catch. Dante hadn’t yet learnt the difference between the body and a ball. “Your responsibility.” He said without any regret whatsoever.

“What the fuck?” Trish cursed. “Since when did I start bathing strangers? I am not even involved with this job. You do it.”

“I would very much love to.” Grinned Dante. “But as you can see—” He said rising his left arm where Angel’s blood was soaked. “I’ve got to shower myself.”

“Have fun.” Saying, the sick bastard walked away whistling. He was probably imagining a whole situation. After all, it was arousing, now wasn’t it?

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm writing. Nice :)]   
> Isn't great yet but I hope you enjoy anyway.

Her body shuddered. The thick duvet had little to no effect to her shivering. The room she was given for the time being was insulated enough even for a shabby place like Devil May Cry. It wasn’t because of the cold she couldn’t stop herself from trembling. Not at all.

She was afraid. Her previous encounter of which she recalled only fragments, was not pleasant.  Even these tiny recollections were enough for her teeth to grit tightly as every moveable muscle in her body clenched.

The fact that she could sense the same scent as the creatures that were so cruel to her, though vague, from the man standing in front was only adding to her fear.

Her heart wrenched and weakened with every passing second and she felt sick. The pain she felt streaming from her back, pumping through her body never lessened. The cut had barely stopped bleeding and the area was throbbing. In place of her wings, humped two wounds, pulsating as if alive—adamant about not healing. But that sight was covered under the oversized shirt she was made to wear.

“Ye ready to speak yet Angel?” The man asked. His tone wasn’t friendly. But it wasn't nearly as frightening as the way he was making her feel—vulnerable and on the verge of screaming and losing her barely existing sanity.

The nails on her finger dug deep into her skin threatening to pierce it with just a little more pressure. Yet her shivers never ceased.

There was another woman who stood beside the man. She wore a white shirt, neck cut to just above her waist followed by a pair of shorts. Her hair fell only below her jaw and was dark in colour unlike the white haired male.

The girl stuttered trying to form words but a flood of emotions were overwhelming her, rendering her unable to speak. Her lips parted to glue back again. Each time she opened her mouth, incoherent noise was what would come out.

The waiting two were losing their patience and it was evident in their movement and expressions. The man tapped his foot fervently on the floor making a very quick thud noise.

“Angel.” He said. Sarcasm and very slight annoyance was detectable in the way he said the word. “Why on earth were you kidnapped by demons?”

The lady with him held a curious gaze up at her.

“Demons.” The girl repeated murmuring, and registered the new knowledge about who those creatures were.  She swallowed enough courage to muster her following statement, ready for any abrupt outburst. 

“You're one of them.” If then their breathing weren’t the only sound, the statement would vanish into air before someone could hear.

A smirk brushed past his lips. “Demon? Technically, yeah.” He said. “but I’m not half as ugly as them.” His narcissistic smile widened. “So what’s your story, love?”

The girl took a while to fully comprehend the question and really think about it. And when she did, her heart was filled with emptiness as if she had just thrown herself into the void. Subconsciously, she held her breathing from keeping herself from the panic she was about to break into.

_Her story..._

“My story.” She mumbled ever so softly. “I don’t know.” Her barely audible voice was fading evermore. “Don’t remember.” One single tear rolled down her cheek and she hugged her knees tightly.

She wasn’t sad. Her mind just flooded with emptiness. Events prior to earlier, she had no memory of. All she could picture was her in a hot, fiery room, much like hell surrounded by what she now knew as demons. That’s all. She had no remembrance of her identity or origin. As much as Dante and Lady would like to know about her and their recent mission, they were not going find answers—not from her. For she herself, would like to know. 

“Don’t remember.” She repeated. “Don’t remember. Don’t know. Don’t know who I am.” Her panic was urging out of her despite her efforts to suppress it.

Lady opened her mouth to say something, clearly not expecting this but Dante, equally surprised pressed his question.

“You remember nothing?” Dante asked.

“Only _pieces_.”

“Great. What are they?” He sounded like a therapist helping a hopeless patient.

“ _Demons_.” She paused.  “They cut me...  And tied me up.”

That much they knew already.

“Anything else?”

“Mhm.” The girl shook her head.

She saw the other two glance at each other disappointedly, like she had done something she shouldn’t have. She felt like a child.

The woman approached her. “Lady.” She said reaching her hand forward for a shake.

After pondering for few seconds, the girl took Lady's hand with her trembling one.

“I’m Dante if you’re wondering.” He smirked.

The girl nodded feeling incompetent for not being able to introduce herself. Dante sensed her discomfort.

“I'll just call you Angel.” 

How original. Lady thought keeping her eye roll to herself.

“Angie for me.” She said friendly. 

Just when Angel thought she could start repressing her fear, another female barged in, totally excited. So much so that she practically shouted. “After going through all the trouble to bathe her,” She cried. “I am being left out?  That’s fair.”

Angel was stunned. Both because of her sudden entrance and the fact that she was given a bath by her. How very, very, very embarrassing. Her cheeks might just have turned red as they heated up.

The new female bent forward examining the girl, awed at the wonderful job she'd done making her clean and smell fresh of minty soap.

“Name's Trish.” She said. Now that she was close, Angel sensed the same thrill off of her.

“You too, er—” She stuttered.

To aid Trish’s oblivion, Dante replied. “A demon. Yeah.” He confirmed her instinct. “The only human here is Lady.”

That statement made her curious further. But she refrained from questions like she did a while back when she was named Angel. It might have been sheer coincidence. And even if it weren't, it would be too much too soon for her to take. As well, the chances they knew something about her were close to none.

“Oh.” Was all she uttered.

“Guess Dante’’ll have to babysit for a while.” Lady said before turning around and leaving the room.

Oh how very wrong she was.

 

 

 


	3. Chicken and Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I tried writing Angel's history differently (not sure how bad it sounds to you, hopefully not too bad) Apart from that I hope you enjoy the current events.  
> Lesson for self: Don't try to write in oldie goldie style.  
> 

_***_

_White feathers kissed her toes—her skin like butter. The tune serene and pure played though the harps of the fair musicians in her greeting. Each visible smile, genuine and unforced showed the passion for their playing and devotion for her._

_Angels bowed, their wings folded to honour Sofiel and her brother, Hayyel._

_Fountains splashed water that tasted sweetly like honey. Vapour shaped like soft snow flakes swayed above in the illuminated space. The walls made of frozen clouds faded at an end far from seeing eyes marking an infinite land._

_Hayyel’s wings, shimmering like gold rose high above his head, his yellow fabric translucent and thin over his worked body. Soft and light were his silky, wavy locks coloured like a morning sky—comfortingly warm despite grey touches. As the counsellor, he guided the archangel, Sofiel to her throne._

_On a feather bed she sat, her silver wings flushing pink gently in places, her heart swirling with joy for the angels, yet she felt a lingering emotion of distress. She feared her incompetence— worried if she held enough power still to protect her clan._

_Like a faint, melodious whisper her voice floated through the air. She spoke of her gratitude for the show. She always did, and she always meant it. Unlike many of the surviving archangels corrupted by the devils, she truly loved her clan and would go to lengths beyond any other would, to protect them._

_No Angel within her reach despised her. Yet her foes outside of her walls had no limit._

_After a very recent war between angels and devils, nearly all archangels lost their chastity—wrath, pride, envy, and lust for power overshadowed the peaceful existence in heaven. Chaos rose amongst the heavenly subjects and it was a fortunate gateway for the demon king to conquer without waging another war— the harm had already been done._

_To say Sofiel was hated discreetly for having merely escaped corruption would be exposing the others’ new found envy for her._

_As much as she dearly loved her kind, she knew outside of her clan, salvation was hopeless. Thus her best choice made from her limited options was to survive for as long as she could and postpone her clan’s demise, while watching her very relatives fall. That was the price to pay for being pulled into a war she wanted nothing to do with._

_Sofiel announced yet another banquet, promising recreation and melody. This was one of the many ways she showed her gratefulness to the angels under her guard. She dined with them and shared with them their daily stories, however great or trivial they may be._

_She was the only one left, who still earnestly cared. And she sometimes wondered for how much longer it would last, and for how much longer her protection would be enough._

_***_

Angel’s head had cleared quite a bit. Her thinking ability was back and she was able to process the events surrounding her better.

A shirt belonging to Dante hung loosely on her bare body with all buttons tucked. Trish promised she’d lend some of her clothes to Angel. They _were_ very close in sizes.

She waded down the stairs, ever so slowly gaining back strength to her feet. She wavered now and then but her physical health was making progress.

For instance, her body stopped trembling, her mind stopped sending warnings, claiming Trish and Dante to be dangerous.

And most importantly, she was feeling hungry.

This was important. She would be as good as a corpse without hunger. At least she was alive. For now, it was enough reason to be grateful. Angel didn’t know for how long she hadn’t eaten but if she had to guess, a week would be less. Needless to say her stomach grumbled and she needed food.

Dante’s kitchen painted a word in capitals in Angels mind—quite much to have a decent idea about the man—UNORGANISED. Definitely Unorganised.

Beer cans trampled and crushed, lay scattered everywhere. The sight inside the fridge was disappointing. Left over pizza crusts in their many boxes. And surprisingly, a shrunken broccoli. The bin too was stacked with pizza boxes. God only knew for how long they were rotting there. The place stank; the foul odour of stale leftovers induced nausea in her.

“What’re you doing here?” Poor girl’s heart thumped being startled by the deep voice. Dante stood leaning against the door frame, hands folded on his chest.

“I-I was hungry.” Angel murmured stammering.

“No food for you to eat here.” He said almost apologetically. Almost. One thing he knew for sure about angels was they did not share Dante’s love for pizza. It was doubtful there was pizza outside of earth, and certainly nobody—human, demon, Angel, whoever— would eat week old pizza crusts. “I’ll order something.” He said. “What do you want?”

Angel stared at him thinking. It took her few seconds to come to a decision. “Meat.” She said.

“Meat, what meat?”

“Meat.” She repeated, her forehead wrinkled slightly in confusion and Dante mirrored the expression.

“Yeah, what meat? Cow, chicken, lamb, goat, which? And you can’t eat raw meat. Do you want roast, grill, fry or whatever?”

Angel was confused more than ever. She didn’t eat raw meat but she hadn’t heard any of the latter names before, either. 

“Chicken?” she mumbled questioningly. Lord bless Dante’s hearing. With any other audience they would be driven mad with angel’s oh-so-audible voice.

He ordered every chicken item from the nearest restaurant. On credit, of course. There were some perks of wiping sweat for killing demons—it was after all equivalent to being a mercenary. It _had_ to have some benefits.

With all the menu in front of her, each smelling so different from the other Angel was baffled as much as she was hungry. To Dante it was amusing. “Eat your heart out.” He was already chewing a piece of meat, while talking. Talk about bad manners.

Angel didn’t have to be offered twice. She picked up a fried chicken breast and bit off the tiniest amount.  And surprisingly for her, it tasted great. It was tragic her amnesia removed even memories of taste, she thought.

“This is good.” She said.

“I know.” Dante said finishing licking the bone of his one. He sat on his seat, relaxed. Legs on top of the table, beside food and his fingers near his mouth licking off any residue.

Making herself _much_ more at home, Angel leaned against one edge taking forever to finish a chicken breast.

“So Angel.” He was questing through feeding himself another flesh. Casual as ever, he asked “remember anything yet?”

She shook her head, slightly guilty.

“Okay then. What about the night you do remember about. You did something crazy. Any idea about that?”

She shook her head again, this time, merely curious. “What did I do?” Oh, her voice. It was quiet. Too quiet to be good actually. It was soothing yet in a wrong sense. Not arousing, yet so strange. So ethereal. But still strange.

Now Dante gave attention to her face rather than food. “You had this watery kinda thing, shaped vaguely like you, gone mad. When Lady shot it, we heard a loud cry—and the illusion that kept you hidden seemed to have broken.”

Angel didn’t know what he was talking about. This was too unrealistic to believe and to think she had done something even close to that. “A watery kinda thing?” What even was that? And illusion?

She blinked staring right at Dante hoping for more explanation. 

“Oh right!—you’re an angel.” He said matter-of-factly as if it wasn’t new knowledge to Angel. “Now can you try to explain. I’m quite curious.”

_A thud!_

Angel didn’t even register completely what Dante had just revealed that the ceiling cracked open, flooding a swarm of demons down into the room. The door broke in half pushing inside the two soulless human bodies with eyes of liquid pitch. Snarls echoed from their mouths, all directed towards one target—Angel.

The girl's skin tightened with fear, her heart thumping in her throat. The sudden rush of blood to the brain made her head want to explode. Her terror was clearly washed in her wide, watery red eyes.

Dante’s movements were quick. The moment he heard trouble, he was ready with his guns. He shot each demon to dust before they could get near Angel. His distance from her grew in the process of pursuing the killing of those ugly creatures, seeming almost entranced by it. So much so, he ignored the other two human forms. The sense of danger and demons was too strong for Angel to contain. She screamed. Not out of the fear, which was unfathomable for her at that moment, but the pain inflicted due to her sense.

It pleasured the ebony pairs of eyes. Their pace was slow. Stink of rotten carcass evaporated off of them. While Dante was killing the few left demons, Angel ran.  She had stood there too long watching the play. But of course her legs failed her. They felt like melting wax as she collapsed at the end of the staircase, paralysed. Her limbs had movement left but her feet had died. She could see why. The human forms had disappeared but black ooze trapped her like glue beneath her.  And now it was once again forming shape. The snarls sounded only louder as the ooze formed into two human bodies again, frightening her more. 

The ooze had taken its effect on her entire body rather quickly. The sensation of losing control over her muscles was oddly calming. Her sight was blurring, the figures above fading into greyness, her breathing shallower and shallower.

_One, two_ and _three_ bullets shot towards her and she closed her eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Who is she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, SORRY.  
> This is the shortest chapter I've written so far that too when updating after so long.  
> I have exams+I am getting lazier+I am realising I keep going back to casual writing when I started writing this mainly for practice.  
> I feel so demotivated ugh.  
> I have a nice plot designed, just can't get through with whatever I'm writing right now. (that doesn't even make sense, sorry)
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to write more events in one chapter. I hope this isn't too bad.  
> Peace x

Once again was the floor black under the ooze. The single difference being it didn’t jump right back to life.  It took four bullets to mutilate whatever it was.  “Now, now look at this mess,” Dante frowned expression filled with sarcasm. “Who’s gonna clean this?” He shot once more at the floor without necessity; just for satisfaction.

A black mess alright.

Miss damsel in distress did what she was best at; stayed unconscious through more than half of the play. _Although_ , she didn’t hold the cards to choose. What happened afterwards was a tale Angel was only told. And she then had made an oath to herself: Dante had to stop being her saviour and she had to fight for herself.

That was of course the first trigger that led to her extreme skills in combat. The second being— well let’s just say, before she had been a fine angel warrior.

Dante was gone hunting another demon with a sceptical bounty, like always. That left Trish with the chore of babysitting will-wake-up-anytime-now Angel. Lady was too busy with her _toy_ and hunting.

How interesting. Of course it would make for some nice story for Dante to hear, like when Trish bathed her.

Angel’s palpitating lids gave away her awakening. “Good evening sleeping beauty.” Trish said. Angel blinked few times setting her focus and swallowed away her lump to speak. “I’m alive?” She sounded less astonished than she really was.

“Yeah. Alive and awake."

Angel was too confused and tired despite having a long, though unwanted, nap.

“But how? I was almost sure—” She trailed off.

“Sure what? “

“That I would have died.” 

“Dante’’ll know the story. But for now, aren’t you grateful you’re alive?”

That was a perplexing question to which she had two answers of equal importance: yes and no.

She was grateful to be alive, yes. That’s a reason large enough in itself but that was all. It was only because she was alive. For unless she did something this gratefulness would no longer mean anything. Just a passing emotion, genuine but worthless.

“Grateful, sure,” she said and repressed another trace of guilt within. 

“You want food? I am hungry.” Trish’s offer didn’t even get through to the girl.

Oh, hunger. This second an evidence of being alive, the other, a feeling unfelt for greater emotions clouded her thoughts.

Angel shook her head.

“Kay. I’ll get myself some _pizza_ then,” and she went off. Went off leaving Angel thinking. 

Her eyes wandered over the dry skin on her palms, still under effect from the former encounter. She absorbed the room through each detail again and again. The bed she sat on, the window beside it, the walls not very new, lights bright enough to see but dim enough to sober the eyes and a dark cupboard of wooden boards. They had interesting patterns. Staring at them for long put her in a trance. Angel observed intricate lines and edge—her observation soon fading to merely peering as her mind drifted into a different world.

_Long dark figures towered her and her alone, over her fallen guards. Her companions were quite capable, but yet right in front of her, their blood was the one that shed in their dark crimson hue. Wings broken and feathers drenched. Her pain forced out of her in form of wrath. With a single flush of her rage she transformed into a destructive shield, a form liquid, yet powerful as driven by conscious emotions. The air around rose as her force strengthened, swirling and quickly becoming a storm. It was released just as her energy vanished. And oh did it destroy the army of demons in that single blow.  She was heaving and crying._

_If only, if only she had been a little cruel and killed them herself before... She probably wouldn’t have used her power even after the deaths if her pain of loss wasn’t so large. So large it changed into anger and hatred and at that moment she was no longer pure._

_Her emotions were shrouded with dark ones and her chastity was now near dead. She could not turn back. All she could do was end what she had just began and... and find Hayyel._

 

“....why don’t you help her?” The female voice echoed.

“I am.  What more _can_ I do?”

“For one, you can try to find out who she really is? Instead of guarding her day and night. It doesn’t suit the great Dante who has no care for the world.”

He thought little of the comment Trish made and laughed it off. “I am not guarding her day and night.”

“Sure.”

But in fact he was. His denial of it was evidence. He was watching her closely and saw through her. Why she repressed her strength, he didn’t understand. Her eyes screamed pain and wrath combined. And that one time was enough to realise she was running from her own self. If she wanted, she wouldn’t have needed Dante to save her just hours before. Saying he was intrigued by her would be an understatement.

Dante watched her even closely that evening. She was lost in thoughts, staring at mindless objects.  

Even to Trish it was clear, Angel didn’t need the protection she was given. She was self sufficient. All she did need was to pull herself out of whatever void she was in then.  They could help her only so much.

Why, you see the black ooze that trapped her was made of dark matter. Deadly even to a half breed like Dante. And Angel, for whose kind dark matter was originally created, had no chance of surviving the touch of a single drop. Yet she was on her bed, alive and thinking more clearly. No ordinary Angel could have done that—she was nothing ordinary.

What she was, was still a mystery to everyone who knew her on earth, and momentarily to herself too. 

Her memory alone was all of their hope of debunking _that_.

Dante watched her some more standing by the door frame, curious eyes and a fascination he hadn’t felt since he realised who _he_ really was.

Now, who was Angel, really?

 


	5. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola! My finals are over and hopefully I'll be writing more now ^.^  
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy.

Dante enjoyed himself while shooting the demons. Every time he killed, a strong, dark power overtook his sanity a little to strengthen him and he savoured his kills. So much so, his living, besides borrowing money, came from it.

He shot for the fourth time until the ooze underneath Angel stayed like that. He crouched, looked at the girl lying muddled with black gel-o, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

The girl was unconscious, but she was breathing just fine and once again lived through an occurrence that could very surely kill her. Dante dipped the tip of his index in and it sizzled. His skin turned amber; for few seconds the burning sensation persisted and then followed the numbness and momentary paralysis.

“Whoa!” He was intrigued. “Twice now.”

He pushed the girl away on a drier part of the floor with the handle of his sword and poured a bucket of water on—he didn’t want to burn himself more while getting her out. She did not wake. One thing Dante knew for sure then was her subconscious charade. Angel was unconscious, but any physical means couldn’t wake her. Not anytime soon, if she didn’t want to.

She was carried to her room and neatly sat until Trish came, cleaned her, got her out of her clothes and tucked her in bed. Dante was still learning. At least he carried her upstairs _gently._

“And that’s how the brave Dante saved the distressed young woman.” He gagged, laughing at his own joke.  Angel was embarrassed. But determined now. 

She would learn at least defence if offence was too much for her. Her fists clenched with the duvet between them, palms turning sweaty and heart slowly increasing to pace.  She would do it.  It was a promise. She would not be the distressed young woman anymore.

“But Angel,” Dante’s tone changed drastically serious. His brows furrowed while he grinned only half of his mouth turning, and asked. “How about we talk real here?” Angel was intimidated.  He was sat beside her, slightly bent and Angel could feel his breath on her bare shoulder. It did not help with the rush of confusing emotions swirling within her.

“You owe me with your life now, don’t you?” His tone sounded haunting and low. Almost seductive and in Angels ears, the words turned into mushy noises, exciting, thrilling, yet toxic.                     “Twice.”

“Tell me. Why are you playing?” His hand rose up to her shoulder and caressed the skin, that soon burnt for both of them. He motioned over her in circles with his fingers, his breath feeling closer with each second.

Seduction could spill all truths. Isn’t that right?

Angel’s eyes were glued shut under pressure of the tension growing inside and around her. Her heartbeat quickened. She was frozen, but inside her growing was a rampant chaos; not entirely due to excitement. But horror that resurfaced due to a vague memory— _one where breaths of several demons were burning her._

Dante’s fingers had found their pleasure and he was bored, still without the answers he was looking for through his action. His tongue licked the skin his fingers left burning; it now felt alien to her own body. His slow and timed licking got sloppier and was turning into a mild suck. “Quit testing me.” He raged.

Angel wasn’t. It took her way too long to process her response.  When she did, she curtly pulled herself away, heaving and looked up at the man, his eyes now lustful. She stared into them and through without enough courage look at them.

“Stop!” She swallowed nervously. “Please—don’t. I-I can’t st-t-and this.”  Her chest had begun drumming; her statement sounded more hurtful than was intended.

“Is that so?” Dante asked without being much offended. He did however back slightly, out of respect only.  “Why is it? Were you raped?” Despite his honest respects, Dante was still the insensitive man, without cares for another, and with untimely jokes.  

“No!” Angel snapped. “No— _no!_ ” Her voice lowered now. “I-I-I was n-not raped.” Or at least she hoped that weren’t true. Raped by a demon, how very, very, very.... wait... as realisation and probably remembrance collected in her mind, the vein beneath her eye twitched—she was in disbelief and underwent momentary trauma. The instant she snapped back, her arms flung back and caressed the bulges, still healing, recalling the time her name was given, and the time when Dante told her she was an angel, which her mind had completely masked until that moment.

“Angel.” She said.

Dante’s curious gaze hindered him any speech. “Is that what I am?” She asked.

“So I am told.” Came the response more matter-of-factly than intended. “So, you remember anything?”

She hadn't remembered, not anything significant. “Do me one more favour, and I'll owe you thrice.” Her voice wavered.

“Whatever you ask love, is yours.”

“Teach me how to fight.”

 

***

Dante was gone with a sassy ‘sure’ to her request. It wasn’t anything too great she asked for.

Hayyel. The word pierced Angels head with questions. It's origin, who it belonged to and why it was the only name she remembered. Strong emotions, indecipherable, panged within her each time the name swelled in her mind. She forced herself and pushed to her limits trying to find anything about it.

Minutes of fervent and tense tries to recollect, went in vain entirely. Angel could be positive she had known the owner of the name. Somehow, very closely.

Dwelling on the hopes of her memories returning was something she barred herself from doing very soon. Time was slow compared to her, and her training could not wait even till the next forty eight hours.

She slid out of bed leaving for Dante downstairs. He wasn’t there. His armchair was empty, the desk was clean; courtesy of Trish, the floor where she recalled collapsing looked redeeming but still damaged and the TV echoed now and then. Someone had left it on. Angel turned it off and instantly cried a grown man like a child as if he was denied of a toy.

“Turn it on.” Dante screamed from the kitchen.

“But you’re not watching it.” Angel replied. Her voice had improved radically. She sounded less terrified and more in control. It was either an odd aftereffect of a failed attempt at seduction or the fact a name sprang up from within her memories, which screamed to be important or a balanced mixture of both.

“I am listening to it.”

“But it isn’t music.” She hadn’t finished completing her sentence while Dante came out and watched her complete it.

“But I am listening to it so turn it on please.”

She did without further argument. “Alright, there.” Her motions were gentle, subtle and caring unlike the very person in front of her. Even an object such as a remote experienced her subtlety without a requirement and secretly observant Dante did not fail to notice. He was more interested. A gun shot banged from behind her and Dante mumbled out a ‘cool’. He was watching a showcase of new guns. It was merely the beginning to Angel’s experience with Dante and his love for guns.

“When do we start?” She asked after Dante was done with his admiring.

“Start what?”

“Training.”

He supressed a grin to say, “Whenever you like.”


	6. A Useless Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise how often I use semi-colons o.o please tell me it isn't a bad thing o.o.  
> Also, punch me for being so lazy. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Dante blocked each reluctant first with ease. “If you keep this up you'll be mince meat before a real opponent. You have to harbour intense emotions like hate or anger.”

“I'm trying.” She cried as Dante dodged yet another punch. However it may have been, Angel just couldn’t bring forth her hatred; not for Dante. How could she use an emotion as a trigger, she didn't have? Yet. “How do you hate me within a time so short?” She kicked and it landed on Dante’s knee. He let it land seeing her pitiful fighting. “Please tell me you didn’t let me kick intentionally.”

“I did. Also, I don’t hate you.” Saying, he grabbed Angel’s neck by his arm and swirled her around, latching her onto his body. She heaved continuously. “This won’t do.” Dante sighed. “It’s been an hour and all you did was unwillingly throw punches. Where’s the intent? You are an angel, aren’t you? Where are your skills? If you want to learn fighting, decide your intention.”

Angel was still panting. Dante released her seconds later; her breath too fell in pace. “I’ll defend.” She gulped and wiped off a sweat.

The hunter matched his attacks or the level of Angel’s endurance and struck. She dodged. He punched again and his knuckle closely hit her shoulder. She got lucky the first time. Her time continued to be few seconds slow and she was hit, although barely.

After an unbearably long exercise for her, Angel finally collapsed on the floor. She had the minimum energy left and she used it for breathing. She couldn’t move a single muscle and her eyes shut adamantly.  She was already halfway into her sleep.  Her skin started to feel twitchy and she, drained.

“Come on lady. Do I have to carry you again?” Dante whined and for the first time in a long time, for a genuine reason. But he did carry her.  Again.

***

_Sofiel’s mind screamed “liar” but her trust on those whom she guided hindered her an immediate action, which would be to instantly execute the informer, for his information was to be considered an act of deception against every other archangel. But she quietly whispered and spared a life for she was too kind. “Speak no word of it ever again.” Though was kindness clear in her action, her speech bore no such emotion; her voice was stern and threatening. That aura around her then was something, not to be reckoned with. Once a life spared, twice, the very life would splatter blood on her hands. She did not want to kill her subject_.

***

Angel’s knuckles were red and swollen from punching in the wall. Herself alone was harmed, nothing else. From her will to her physical incompetence at the moment; she was the single being, troubled.

Dante had gone hunting; off to his work and she stayed at home alone. She was trying with all the power she thought she had to increase her strength. Only, she didn’t know her strength would not magically increase. For she was holding back and if she did gain power, she would have to remember.  And she, despite wanting to, could not remember. Her old self would not allow it.

She pushed herself beyond her limits and hit the wall. Punch after punch, her muscles were now pulsating pain and blood clot above the bones. A groan escaped her throat and she stopped, panting once again.  She cursed herself and her situation.

Just what had happened that she was so terrified despite being so safe within concrete walls, and with a hunter who had saved her before?

“Worthless piece of trash.” That was her first ever curse. “Can’t remember. Can’t fight. Can’t help yourself—always having to be rescued.”

“Damn it.” She punched for the last time before she finally bled.

That night she couldn’t sleep. She was restless and turned from side to side in bed, sweaty and thirsty. To drink, she tip toed down to the kitchen so she wouldn't wake Dante up. Not that he would other wise. She was still being cautious.

She gulped in cold water, letting the stream burn her throat as it plunged down. The muscles in her fists had grown to ache more. As the burning subsided, the back of her head experienced a heavy pang for a split second.

A brain freeze. That would have been her explanation if she weren’t met with a memory where fire chained her. The hot flame making her skin feel like wax melting as her back bled and she watched her wings burn colouring the fire in beautiful and divine shades. She was alive and inside her too, was a torment that burnt her. A voice, she could hear even through remembrance; a hostile voice, in enjoyment of something. There was no mistaking it. She was holding onto a knowledge; that was what kept her alive. Now she would only have to dig deeper into her own mind—

“Angel— _angel_!”

The female snapped back. She couldn’t feel her right palm due to holding the bottle for too long.

“What fantasy were you lost in?” Dante joked, clearly without a funny intention.

“I saw a glimpse of what was happening before you rescued me.”

“Is that so? What did you see?”

“Fire. In the room about which you told. My wings were burning. Yeah, I think they were my wings.”

“You think?”

“Who else’s could it have been?”

“Exactly. Then why do you have to think?”

“I—never mind.” She didn’t realise why she had phrased it that way. “I’ll sleep. Good night.” Saying she left, wondering and thinking to herself.

Was she even an angel anymore? She no longer had her wings, yet was alive. It would only be rational to try and survive for as long as she could. But as a human.  


	7. Impact of a Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!   
> For once, I sat down and wrote a chapter without taking week long breaks after writing two lines hah.  
> No Angel here, just Dante and an enemy. The purpose of this is showing how Dante develops in this story. Hope it is understandable.   
> Enjoy and tell me what you think. x

On the counter, Dante crashed his beer mug after gulping in the drink in a go. “One more please.” The bartender looked at him surprisingly intimidated and abided. On usual nights she would have pestered him about the money he still owed and how she would lose her job if she allowed him another single drop. That night, she felt herself restrained from conversing with him. Dante’s face was dark. His eyes felt hollow and looked lifeless to a point where eight cans of beer couldn’t divert him. The lady who would always frolic with him, then spoke no word and disappeared after serving his drink.

Prior to his arrival at his favourite yet skeptical bar, Dante had to fight against a rather peculiar breed. A demon, who knew witchcraft, resembled an innocent young woman and had earned the skill to look inside the depths of one’s locked away self.

 It was no secret Dante enjoyed his job. It was tiresome at first, sure. And if he could he would rather not do it; _but_ it was the only job _he_ could do. And soon, before he even knew, he had grown accustomed to it and his demonic blood tempted him. There really was no other reason behind the secret pleasure he found from killing.

The woman with her hair long, coloured like the dark burgundy of dahlia awaited him. Her patience hadn’t been tested in a long while. She anticipated him more and more as she heard Dante’s steady steps ever so slowly taken with full intention and she was dying with the waiting. Her repressed smile widened the second Dante’s footstep stopped and he was in front of her.

“Your den reeks of decomposed corpses, lady.” He sat on a rag covered surface in front of her, broken stones decorating the nasty table between them. Insects trapped in cobwebs and spiders of considerably large sizes fed on them as rats scurried over the abundant bones.

“Why, you have a sharp nose,” she chuckled, sneeringly.

Dante’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, but not unnoticed to the woman. He would humour her but he were in no mood. The smell, the visual, and the sense of disruption he was feeling then hurried him to finish the job quickly.

“You seem to have been waiting for me.”

“I have,” came the woman’s collected response.

“Why do you scam people with your fake future-telling?”

“You seem to have it wrong. I don’t scam people. Neither do I tell futures. I merely reveal information about themselves even they don’t know or don’t acknowledge.”

“Yeah? And what about these corpses here?”

“Oh these,” she laughed darkly. “I need to live and to do that I need to eat. Don’t you agree?”

“So you eat the people whose future you tell.”

“I do not tell futures. And yes, I eat them. I torture them, I hear them scream for help and mercy. Oh, how I love their pleas. They taste so much better after dying in such excitement. You and I aren’t very different, are we?”

“I don’t eat demons.” Dante’s response was sharp and spontaneous. Before he could realise what he had just uttered, he had already said it. His pupils constricted with the surprise of his response and he tried to mask his emotion. “Just do whatever it is you do and attack me. I have a rule of fighting women only with the excuse of self defence.”

This time, the woman actually laughed. “Do you need self defence?”

“I said excuse. Now hurry will you? I am having a hard time breathing here.”

She completely ignored him. “Dante,” she whispered. The man would have liked to ask how she knew his name but he wasn’t given a chance. “Are you afraid of the fact that you don’t fear one day you might lose control and harm something that could potentially be a source of your worry? Ignore my question as mad man’s ramble if you aren’t.” The woman…she burst into laughing hysterically. “I can see your deepest secret. You cannot hide anything from _me!_ I have become omniscient; you cannot hide from me.” Her previous calm and collected poise took a turn for the worst. She was almost growling. Her eye balls looked like they could pop out any moment and her voice then was poison for the ears. From the beginning Dante had felt slightly unnerved and tense. It was definitely not the corpses or the smell, or the insects crawling at every inch, no. The place, the woman, they had an aura that could unease even the reckless hunter like himself. Dante’s palm hardened and curled, not yet turning into a fist.

“Why bother doing your work when you can simply hunt and eat your victims? For me, that would make this case much less confusing.”

“I already said. We aren’t very different. I _enjoy_ my job. Just like you enjoy yours.”

“Great. Then I’ll make an exception while killing you,” saying, Dante pulled out Rebellion from its sheath and its fine metal glowed a reddish silver in the nasty darkness of the den. “You are indeed mad.”

Dante struck with force and the woman in front of him was sliced in half. Only, no blood splattered. From behind him came a horrible laughter mixed with menace and pleasure. “Wrong. Guess again.” It howled and disappeared seconds before Dante turned back. There was nobody there anymore.

“Behind you.”

Dante swirled with his sword and sliced through the air in a circle. He believed in Rebellion enough to ensure it would sever any objects within a twenty metre radius of him; yet the howling laughter persisted and gradually increased in volume.

“Your humanity is slowly sliding out of your hands, Dante. Don’t try to pursue it.” She continued laughing.

Psychologically, Dante had started feeling her and her words’ impact. Her magic was to draw out the darkest intentions of one’s mind after she learned their secrets with her ability. The residue of her magic allowed her to perform most things witches could. Dante knew himself quite well compared to a regular human. To say he was aware of his mind and self would not be wrong. However— _however_ , he couldn’t accept it as a fact. The woman’s words forced him to acknowledge and accept. With the amount of killings Dante had done and how he now had taken a liking to it, made him stand on a thin line, which, if he crossed his sanity would face a same fate as the creature in front of him.

“Let me guess. You aren’t even here, are you?” He stopped and stood. “No matter how much damage I do, or try to do, you will not be hurt.”

“You are perceptive.” The sound of slashing movements had stopped altogether. “But slower than I expected. I’m disappointed.”

“Well then.” The man sighed. He had begun to gain back his composure after pondering a while.

“Yes. You cannot kill me here. Not today.” Then the laughter started again.

Dante spoke between the woman’s frenzies. “I’ll just destroy this place then. You’ll have to show your face when you won’t have a place to return to—oh, also, the first time I see you, I will make sure to kill you. Because as you said, I do very much _enjoy_ my job.”

For the first time had Dante spoken of what his subconscious was bothering him with. And honestly, he felt a weight lift off his shoulder.

Laughter of the crazed woman immediately ceased as Dante said it and cut through every inch of the den’s foundation and reduced its existence to rubble. Outside the wind was soothing and the moonlight rather comforting for the man who faced a slightly unexpected circumstance and failed to finish his job. While he turned the tables around and disoriented the demon witch instead with his acceptance, he owed a debt of killing her. Everyone knew how reliable Dante was with his debts. “Do find me when you replenish your mental fortitude.” He said and walked away. If anything, he was intelligent and knew well enough what her price was for her ability. Her own sanity.

And at the bar, he sought to replenish _his_ mental fortitude. He had never left a job unfinished. That night Dante felt restless, angry and slightly empty for his pride was hurt. He needed assurance his work was still fine. Although to others, he seemed daunting and unapproachable.

 


	8. Bounty on the Unworthy Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally reveal Angel’s eye colour teehee :3
> 
> Angel's changing from her initial self and is becoming strong. More changes (as the title suggests) are on their way ^-^
> 
> Enjoy x

“Oi!” Frustrated the young woman unplugged the vacuum cleaner and quiet returned in the shop. “How many damn times do I have to dispose off your empty cans? Get your lazy butt to clean some of your mess!”

“Really now.” She muttered under her breath. 

Dante who was casually faking his sleep and annoyingly loud snores ignored the female's complaints, his good ol’ magazine covering his face.

Over a week had passed since Dante’s encounter with the physically incompetent, yet manipulative witch. He had forgot he owed her something and that for a few hours his pride was hurt. Within the span of a night Dante returned to his usual sloth self, waiting for another job. One that would let him win with physical strength.

To Angel, he kept his word and trained with her each day until two days back, when she magically punched Dante square in the face, kicked him in the stomach and created dark bruise still visible and pinned him to the ground, breathing loudly while realising her efforts and success. Her body felt like it had been injected with some form of energy and the heat would not cool until she fought longer and for real. 

Dante surprised at the sudden improvement, pushed her back and adjusted to her strength after minimal analysis. She still couldn’t defeat him with her new strength, he thought.

He was wrong. Very wrong.

He pushed Angel back, jumping right up and went on the defensive. That was enough to boost Angel’s confidence.

She hurled strong punches at the man’s shielding arms with complete understanding of their reaction and most of them landed. For a split second Angel distracted herself to catch her breath and Dante stroke instantly, barely touching the loose hairs on her forehead as she dodged.

Their fight lasted until Lady barged into the shop and tore their heated duel apart so she would get enough attention to discuss the job she brought. It concerned Angel.

Someone had put a bounty on her head. Anyone to return her alive to a certain organisation would be rewarded a 500 grand worth of money. Assassins and mercenaries had already began to hunt the female, who they were told had ran away and needed to be brought back.

Lady hadn’t come running to warn Angel or Dante about protection; they had themselves covered in that department. After laying out the information she knew, the trio sat down and heard Lady’s part of the job. “As you see the information is too shady and inadequate. ‘Return this young woman to our organisation, and contact Mr. Jeffery Hunts for further details,’ my ass! I doubt a person like that even exists.

My issue here is whether the bounty is put by the demons responsible for her abduction, or Angels. If it’s the demons, we can start a hunt—”

“Using Angel as a bait?” Dante interrupted rather coldly to Lady’s surprise. Shifting her tone, she continued.

“I wouldn’t exactly call her a bait considering she won’t be in any real danger if we’re there—and, if it’s the Angels, we can strike a deal with them and have them assist us in our hunt.”

“So, you’re only interested in their identity so that you can hunt demons?” asked the half demon himself with a crooked smile.

“I would like to hear what Angie has to say too.” She said, her attention switching to the baffled face. Angel was confused about the whole discussion and her being hunted for a prize she was absolutely convinced she wasn’t worth of. _That_ was her subject of worry. Why would anyone want her returned alive now? She knew someone had paid for her rescue, and something told her whoever did, wasn’t responsible for the recent bounty on her head. It wouldn’t make sense to pay twice for something that could be done in a single time.

“H-heh,” She tried to lighten up only her tensed mind and nothing else. “Someone really wants me returned, then.” Angel forced the muscles on her cheek to turn her lips into a fake smile. None of the two responded, urging her to be serious.

“As much as I hate to be a burden,” she started “I’m a little curious.”

“About?” Lady asked.

“Isn’t it a bit too irrational to demand me returned _now_?”

“You’re implying two different people are paying for your rescue and this?” Dante spoke in monotone.

“Yes. Personally, I’d like to know why. A-and, I am also improving in my fighting. It shouldn’t take long before I am competent enough to really fight if I continue to train. So, I request that you let me stay here for a little longer until I can fight on my own. I’ll let you claim the reward by having you return me after that. Meanwhile, Lady can look into whoever is pulling the strings as she proposes.”

“I don’t have a problem. Besides, I wasn’t planning to hand you right over either.” Without much explanation to his statement, Dante surprised Lady slightly. One didn’t often see Dante bet on opportunity. Or maybe it was something else this time…Lady paid little mind to him to read deeper into what he was thinking.

“Then I’ll get to work.” Minutes later Lady stormed out of the shop like the wind she came in and Dante and Angel were left alone again.

 

“You’re really funny sometimes.” The man who had started smirking at Angel fiddling with her fingers, remarked.

“H-huh?”

“Your speech.”

“What about my speech?”

“You’re way too formal. If you want to look normal, work on how you speak.” He landed his palm on Angel’s head, actually patting her.

“Eh?!” She was more surprised by his action than what he said.

“You’re kind of adorable.” He teased and laughed at his own joke.

“So are you.” Angel replied smiling wickedly after a moment’s thought. Mischief clear in her then sparkling grey eyes. “-Sensei” She teased back. “You will teach me speech while I’ll teach you fashion. If you want to look _normal_ , you’ll have to stop wearing that red coat without anything underneath.” The wide and genuine grin on her face was something to be concerned about for she was planning mischief. The duo had started to get along really nicely.

For all the days she was to remain at Devil May Cry, Angel was going to be an interesting teasing buddy to Dante and he was already interested in what her first mischief would be.

Thus, the sudden usage of crude language while Angel spoke in her conflicting low and seductive voice.

 

Angel hadn’t yet done her day’s training, postponing it for after she had done some cleaning, but the mess has already started to grow on her and tire her. Seeing Angel slumped on the sofa, weary written over her, Dante removed his magazine from his face.

“You can take a day off, sweetheart.” The smug bastard, king of laze and sloth was more than happy to sit on his seat all day doing absolutely nothing. But it was Angel who we’re talking about here. There was no way in neither hell nor heaven she would allow Dante to ‘rest’.

A cushion smacked the unshielded face of Dante’s and he threw it back at the female. Soon the game turning into a heated pillow fight, then a fistfight and even sooner her training resumed from the very harmless throwing of cushions.

Surely Angel was improving in her skills each day and would soon reach Dante’s level. She had started fighting back with punches and kicks that held full intent and a smile that showed her boosting confidence in herself.

“Impressive. Really impressive.” Dante’s comment only made her will stronger.

However, she hadn’t recovered from her amnesia and the stress that came with it. Not at all. Each night undecipherable visions and voices still haunted her and she would often find herself waking up in a cold sweat and thirst draining her already dehydrated body. But she had taught herself to calm down and focus on what needed her major attention. Her memories would come back to her when she was mentally and physically ready to face them. And she was right. Her current strength was proof of it. It was impossible to grow as strong as she had in less than a month. Angel _was_ indeed regaining her strength and skills she had lost to amnesia.

The duo fought for much longer until both of them were satisfied.

 

 

 


	9. Late Night Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got to write an entire chapter based only on Dante and Angel yay xD
> 
> Happy reading!

***

_Sofiel felt disgusted at herself for being so blinded to see through the man’s treachery and betrayal. He stood in front her, his wings raised high above him in the glory. He had earned his victory as he trampled on the withering corpses of his fellow brethren._

_“What shall it be, sister.” Hayyel gurgled menacingly. “Will you stop fighting yet?” He laughed in a howl. “Just give it up. You’re exhausted.”_

_The archangel refused to just give up. Although, Hayyel was right. She_ was _exhausted. Her still staying up on her two feet was commendable enough then._

_Demons were steady in their formation behind Hayyel waiting for his instruction to act. It was so very amusing to him._

_“Why—?” Sofiel muttered trying to suppress her growing fury. Her skin burned with rage and disgust. The sight of her own brother was revolting to her. “Why?” The growl escaped her and her final drop of power burst out of her leaving her utterly weak._

_Killing her own angels to release them from their madness had drained a lot of energy. Fending off the invading army of demons inflicted an immense amount of pressure on her while her beloved and trusted brother’s betrayal completely shattered her._

_“Why did you have to side with the demons?” Her voice was harsh; her emotions tainted with an aim that would be her fall._

_“Do you even have to ask?” He laughed. “It’s because I hate you. I want you gone. I want you off the throne that you don’t deserve.” Hayyel’s eyes burned in spite. “I was the one who has inherited the skills, the knowledge and the resolve. You were a mere weakling always needing protection. But look who has the throne given to her in a golden platter._ YOU _!” He spat. “I have always hated being stuck as your counsellor._

_Counsellor, really? Ha! Don’t make me laugh. Your affection for these measly angels disgust me. You were always stubborn despite being so weak and never did learn—_

_The war three millennia ago, that wiped away so many strong soldiers from each and every clan and more than half of the angel specie should have taught you something. Survival of the fittest—it rules every world that exists to this day. Humans’, demons’ and ours. And you, my dear sister aren’t fit.”_

_“Measly angels?” Her tone slurred. “Those very angels kept you alive till this day. They were the ones_ I _was supposed to protect. The very ones I had to kill to end their maddening suffering. All because you poisoned them with demon blood._ You _—_

_You are despicable.”_

_“Indeed I am. But, don’t mistake me for you, Sofiel. You’re the one they kept alive. So did I. You protecting someone? You can’t even help yourself. Not even with your angelic power. Affection is all that you’re capable of providing. Nothing more. For so long I’ve continued to guide you despite loathing the very sight of you. But you did nothing to move forward. You stayed within the shelters of your castle, living in a time-loop forcing everyone to do so along with you. I’ve had enough of this. If the angels want to survive, they need to learn how to coexist with demons. Angels cannot afford their old grudges against demons to be the foundation of their life while your clan is the only one unscathed of a single sin.”_

_“You’re wrong!” Sofiel screamed._

_“I am right. Accept it.”_

_“No!” Hayyel’s words greatly affected her although she denied it. “You’re wrong—”_

_“You dear sister,” Their proximity grew as Hayyel treaded forward with a thick string-like light of gold that slashed the air like a whip. “will be my gift for the demon king for accepting my proposal and joining in an alliance.” He tied her up in his weapon, and Sofiel didn’t resist one bit. Deep down, she realised Hayyel was wrongly_ right _._

***

“You know you can come inside.” Dante said placing his sword against the wall. He noticed Angel’s presence quite a while back but being too engrossed in cleaning his weapon he ignored her.

The female moved away from the door and into the room looking strangely different. Her chin was risen higher than usual, legs stood straight and long and chest held high with her arms folded; her back in a perfect curve. Dante’s eyes scrutinised her posture earning him a giggle. “Why’re you standing like some royal wench?”

Angel ignored the remark. “Say, Dante,” she started. “Do you want the five-hundred grand prize money?”

Dante sat on his bed cross-legged. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Do you _really_ want the money?” She repeated herself. 

“I already said what I had to before.” He toyed.

“There’s something I need to do. Need your help to do actually. You cannot kill an angel by only stripping off her wings, it seems.”

“What are you getting at?”

“My name is Sofiel.” She said. The pause after she had announced her name felt like a million thorns prickling her. She knew her stance, her posture was just a cover for her inability to accept herself. But she was strong enough to mask her feelings then. That’s _why_ —

At the statement, Dante’s eyes shot up, his surprise transparent. He didn’t care enough hide it. “So, you’ve regained your memories.” Somehow, his tone didn’t sound as curious as he thought he felt.

The female nodded.

She sat beside Dante, strongly clutching the bed-sheet between her palms. “I am stuck.”

“How exactly?’ Dante eyed her, trying to see through what was in her mind. He couldn’t. She had chained her thoughts better than amnesia and he couldn’t at all read her, leaving him with the only option of listening to her.

“Right now I’m in a phase where I’m neither an angel nor a fallen. You could call this some sort of, er, _metastasis_? I can’t go back to being an angel. It’s impossible. I either stay like this and die succumbing to madness, or I _fall._ ”

Strangely Dante’s memory of the witch he failed to kill, sparked. _Die succumbing to madness…_ He recalled her hysterics. A demon’s intuitions aren’t wrong; Dante felt oblivious for not being able find a relation between the two women. He continued to listen.

“You can still get the money if you return me like this. But, if I fall, consider that bounty as good as a hoax.”

“That’s your concern right now?” He laughed, which earned him a confused stare. “ _Angel,_ ” he uttered. “Lighten up. You were just getting so fun. It would be too depressing if you reverted back to when I brought you here. Chill.” He punched her shoulder.

Gaze down, she murmured; her voice rough and tone heavy. “But I’m no longer an angel. And—”

“It doesn’t really matter who you are or aren’t, now does it? Calling you Sofiel feels like you’re someone different. I would rather not have to get to know you all over again. However, I am curious about how you ended up here.”

“My clan was wiped out and I along with it. Well, everyone thought I was.”

“Wiped out?”

“My brother was responsible.”

“And now you have a brother.” Dante said not meaning to be funny, but for the first time, Angel laughed at something he said. He found it slightly amusing.

“He told me he wanted my throne—”

“YOUR WHAT?!” Dante practically screamed. He was surprised at his own astonishment. “I mean, you have a throne too?”

Angel giggled at the man’s impatience. “Let me finish.”

“Yeah, speak.”

“Because he hated me. But I know it was me and not his hatred alone. What he did isn’t forgivable, but I can’t blame him for all I did was seek refuge along with everyone else while others had themselves stained. Now I can only hope he is a better guardian for the angels he leads.”

“How exactly did he wipe an entire clan all on his own? Others angels couldn’t possibly have allowed something like that.”

“They didn’t. No one knew before it was already done. He sided with the demons. For an alliance to be formed, he chose to offer me up as a gift. The completely free Mundus, they’ll need the angels and we, I mean the angels cannot survive much longer if they’re still fighting petty wars and beholding old grudges against the clearly stronger force despite being so weak after your fathe—”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.” Dante cut her off realising where the conversation was headed. “But how I am hearing about the angels siding with the demons only now?”

“Because no one told you.”

“Right.” He grunted. “Then what about the whole abduction?”

“I don’t know. My memories are confined to the heavens. I don’t know what happened after I was taken. In fact I myself want to know how the word leaked and reached you. And my rescue? That doesn’t make sense at all.”

“No. It doesn’t. But long story short, you were abandoned by your brother, ended up at the demon’s doorstep, I rescued you but now you’re becoming a fallen.”

“I wouldn’t say I was ‘abandoned’ but yeah. That’s about it. Either way, Lady will not be able hunt demons the way she planned and I can’t imagine her being very happy after finding what I just told you.” Angel sighed.

“You said you want my help to do something—”

“Yeah, I needed to know what you’d want to do. That’s why I asked if you need really need the money. I owe you that much.”

“Not really.” The man’s muscles relaxed. Although their talk wasn’t the most stressing, he felt himself tense at times, now realising it was due to the fact that he had started to care for her. “Lady gave me my cut for the job. You don’t have to feel indebted.” Great words coming from a man literally owing money to every bar to ever exist.

“Still.”

“If you’re gonna die, I’d rather, you become a fallen. It’d be such a loss to let such gorgeous fighter die.”

Angel half-smiled, her eyes warming. She let the mask she was wearing slowly fade revealing her weaknesses. And her greatest weakness was affection. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that. I wanted you to take the reward.” She would be lying if she said Dante’s words didn’t have any effect on her.

“Aren’t you curious about who’s behind this?” He asked.

“I am. But knowing them won’t change anything.”

“Well, after everything, it’s really up to you what you do with your life.” After resting a hand on Angel’s shoulder, Dante got up stripping off his thin-sleeve T-shirt and put on his red coat. “Care to join me on a hunt? I think you’re capable enough now.” He extended his right hand in a bowing manner and after a second’s thought, Angel took it.

“Hunting demons, huh.” She mumbled. “Sounds so very like me.”

“Great.” He tugged on her arm. “I think we’ll make an excellent pair.”

“I doubt it.” The female said as a thin blue aura surrounded her. It had the same jelly-like texture from when Dante first met her.

They soon disappeared in their inhuman speed. Angel had yet to witness the man’s full strength.


	10. Roots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter onward I’ll be using both ‘Sofiel’ and ‘Angel’ while describing but only Angel in dialogues.

 

 

The glow of light from Sofiel’s palm, so blue, tattered the flesh of the beast in front of her. Dante mutilated the demons and his partner completely destroyed their bodies, erasing their existence. 

Sofiel noticed how dead right Dante’s aims and shots were. She admired his accuracy. Unlike her, the skilled hunter could go on for much, much longer. Sofiel’s power used her own life energy as fuel and once she was exhausted, she could no longer wield it. At least not on earth. But, for the night she had enough energy left to spare and play with the weak rankings of demons that flooded towards them.

“It’s entertaining don’t you think?” Dante shot two beings at once and Sofiel blasted them with her electrifying ray.

 “The spilling of guts and tendrils is unsavoury.” She said pausing for a moment. “Creating such wretched creatures, I feel sorry for them.”

“Don’t be such a softie, love. Only power can dominate. If you’re feeling sorry for the enemy, they’ll beat you no matter how much stronger you are than them.”

Angel said nothing more. Being lectured about something she all too well knew, was her weakness, didn’t exactly make her feel better.

At three o’clock in the morning, they cleared the area, making the roads look like a bloodbath had taken place. Every corner of the place reeked and both Angel and the hunter had their hands over their noses to minimise the effect of the stench on their stomachs.

 

“So I was thinking,” Sofiel said. “Would you mind having a weapon made for me? If I am going to be your partner, at a point I’ll need one. Once I’m faced with a much stronger opponent, using my power will drain me of energy and on earth I can’t replenish it before twenty four hours.”

“Yeah, sure. I know a place where you might find one you like.”

The female nodded. “Where to next?”

“A witch’s den.” Dante said playfully, all the while eyeing Angel curiously.

“A witch? You kill witches too?” She chuckled.

“Only this one. I have a feeling you’ll find her amusing.” Dante kicked the last blob of bloody flesh on their way.

“If you say so—”

Their walk to the witch’s place, from one of Dante’s unfinished jobs, was without any demon intrusion.

“We’re here.” Dante said stopping only a few feet away from the dark entrance. He had ravaged the place, but the mad woman was stubborn. She repaired this shabby dumpster of a dwelling with dried animal carcass. There were places even the police didn’t know of around this part of the city.

Sofiel scrutinised the place; a familiar feeling nudging her. “I’m sensing something strange from inside. I can’t really put my finger on it.” Her brows furrowed as she tried to think. Dante though, was feeling rather proud about his intuition.

“Well, go on ahead.” He said, following behind her.

Inside was a dark and crammed mud lodging. New bones that still smelt of blood crackled at their feet with contact.

“Old Lady,” Dante yelled. “Are you alive?”

There was no response. Amongst the rotten stench that occupied both of their senses, they couldn’t tell if another being was present there. Trying to catch even the slightest of movements, but being unable to, Dante realised something—

Could the smell of death all around be a cover for her existence so that no one able to sense her out could do so? If so, then the last time she must have shown herself, or rather her image, out of her own will.

Dante’s jaw clenched at the thought. How did he not see this before? He was more than convinced now that this supposed witch was related to Angel somehow.

“What is this feeling?” Angel strongly gripped her throat to keep herself from throwing up.

“You alright?” Dante asked, feeling concerned.

“Uhm.” She shook her head roughly. “This sense; I don’t like this.”

“Mind-reading witch!” Dante yelled louder. “Come out already. You’re making our guest uncomfortable.”

Harsh yet low sounds of breathing flew through the air.

Several minutes past before the figure finally appeared. Unlike before, the woman had covered herself in a black hood.

“What are you doing here, _Sofiel_?” Her voice was harsh and unwelcome. Dante wasn’t surprised.

“So you do know her.”

“I do.” Strongly and sharply she uttered each syllable. “Why is she here? Why with you?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” He looked at Sofiel. “Angel?” He gestured for them to talk.

Sofiel was in shock. She had never in her worst nightmares imagined to see this woman here, in such a state. “Archangel Fitota.” She whispered feeling utterly hopeless. “Y-y-ou—”

“You should have used the power bestowed upon you.” The woman, _Fiota,_ hissed hatefully. “You had it in you to stop what has now been done. There is no angel left anymore. Our specie, it has ended. You were so very arrogant—”

“Stop right there!” She snapped. “I will not deny I let my affection for my angels be the fall of them. It is because I cared for them, that I ignored what was happening outside of my protective walls and what led to my clan dying. But what have you done, Fiota, my dear cousin? You bred with a demon infernal and denied your own child. You were banished from heaven upon your own doing; I had no part in either your banishment or your madness.” Sofiel’s heart lurched saying those words she did, but she couldn’t be a softie. Not when the woman in front was dying in her maddening transformation. She had to fall. To live, she had to.

“I did it for my clan was dying. I needed more power to protect my angels.”

“Did you protect them though? You led them to die needlessly with your demise. However weak of a leader I may have been, I was and am still proud that I have done nothing foolish to taint my brethren’s honour. Do you really want to go mad and die with that guilt with you?’

“You are one to talk!” She spat. “When you’re merrymaking with a half-breed devil!”

Dante intervened before Angel could protest. “Lady,” He said sternly. “firstly, what she does now is none of your business. Neither of you are angels anymore. And secondly, don’t you thinks it’s a bit rude considering your history?” He was implying to the child she denied to have borne. 

“Fiota,” Sofiel’s tone softened. “I request that you become a fallen.”

Fiota laughed. “You must be crazy. I would rather die a as a maddened angel, than become a fallen.”

“You are no longer an ange—” Dante interrupted before she could finish.

“You take that much pride in covering yourself as a demon who knows witchcraft and eating humans? You’re pathetic.”

Sofiel found herself yet again in shock. “Eating humans?!” She jolted. “Why Fiota?”

The woman uncloaked herself. Her face was a pile of rotting muscles, with worms crawling over them. Her sockets were hollow of any eyeball and on most places her bones protruded. The sight was horrendous. It was no surprise, she showed a projection of herself to Dante instead of appearing to him in flesh.

“I need to survive. And to do that I need to eat, don’t you agree?” She repeated her lines like a memorised set of nursery rhymes. “I need to survive…I need to survive…” She played in a loop. A howl escaped her; her mouth widening, displaying a set of bloodied and filthy teeth. She had become worse than a fallen. Seeing the repulsing sight of her, Dante understood what Angel’s words truly meant: _Die succumbing to madness._

There was no way in any existing world that he’d let Angel become like this wretched and pitiful being. Before he could say something, he felt a chilling ray envelope him. He witnessed as the glow around Angel increased in radius covering everything that surrounded her and in a split second the woman before the both of them let out an agonising growl before being reduced to dust.

Unlike the demons a while ago, nothing remained of Fiota. Dante processed everything in awe, a new feeling of admiration and respect for Angel unfolding within him. So, this was the extent of her power? Trish had been absolutely right saying Angel was self-sufficient. At that moment, Dante looked forward to have her as a partner, more than ever.

“I think I’m going to faint.” She mumbled as her feet lost balance. Dante caught her.

“I got you.” He said and carried her. This time, feeling nothing like before.

 

***

“How long was I out?” Was the first thing she said upon waking up.

“Just twenty four hours.” Dante smirked.

“Of course.”

“Remember anything from last night?” He teased.

“Oh! No! Where am I? I don’t remember anything! My goodness!” She cried, and they both chuckled at her phony panic. “I would’ve started bawling if I hadn’t become exhausted. Hah!”

“Cry baby.”

“Call me that again!” Angel punched Dante’s shoulder hard, earning her a fake ‘ouch’ from him.

“As I could see, you were trying to provoke her. How did that relate to falling?”

“I was trying to persuade her more than provoke her. Although I was doing a terrible job.”

“That you were. You _really_ need to stop being a softie.”

Angel sighed. “She said there are no more angels left. Do you think it’s true?”

“Can’t say. I don’t really keep track of whatever’s going outside of this shop. Someone brings me a job, I do it. Other than that I’m pretty clueless.”

The female giggled at Dante’s unexpected honesty.

“So how exactly do you fall?” Dante finally asked what was piquing his curiosity.

“Angels below Archangels fall when they’re stripped off their wings. That happens only when an angel commits a taboo. But for archangels, it’s much more complex.

If they’re stripped off their wings, they’ll go mad instead of falling, as you already saw. Other archangels are responsible for stripping another’s wings. If they fall they’ll be forever denied entrance from heaven, and to fall an archangel needs to burn their roots.”

“Roots?” Dante asked, confusedly.

“I’ll show you.” Angel took off her top, remaining only in her bra. Although, this was a serious matter she was discussing, Dante’s eyes did involuntarily wander below her neck. He pushed away his thoughts. Ignoring his looks, Angel turned back revealing her bulging scar. It hadn’t faded one bit.

“Touch it.” She said, and the man did. Upon contact, he could swear he felt her skin quiver. “Press.”

Dante felt thin branches within the swollen flesh, sharp and needle like. Angel moaned failing to repress her fast reaction. “This is what you call roots?”

She nodded. “If you tear them off my body, I’ll die instantly. And they hurt with the slightest touch of someone else. If I burn them, new wings will grow in place of them and I’ll become a fallen.” So it really was no co-incidence that Dante had to rescue Sofiel from demons that guarded her with fire, chaining her with the very element. Did they want her to fall?

“And then you’ll have wings over your head screaming ‘I’m an angel’ to everyone?”

“No.” She laughed. “Humans can’t see them. I don’t know about you though.”

“That might be a problem. Seeing wings over you would be so…erm—”

“Turning off?” Angel teased.

“Exactly that.”

“Jackass.” She swore.

“Excellent choice of word.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> About angels (´ω｀)  
> I made up most of the things like roots, and the process of falling and archangels leading clans of angels in groups. The only allusion here is probably the usage of angels and demons and most of the things concerning angels, are really all made up.   
> So yeah, tell me what you think.  
> Thanks for reading, peace x


	11. x Tiny Author's Note

Hi.  
I won't be updating for a month as I'll go out of country and won't get a chance to write while travelling.  
I'll start writing as soon as I come back though. Until I return I'll keep both my stories on hold.

Thanks for reading :)


	12. x Discontinued.

As you obviously know I haven't updated this story in well.... months..  
I am not continuing it anymore. I have been telling myself I will write it... but meh I just have lost all interest in writing this. I initially started this as practice and to spend my free periods at school (which I no longer have).  
So yeah this story pretty much dies here. XD I'm really sorry if you were reading this.


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